Logic
by My Thyla My Captain
Summary: "How had he slipped so? How could he so blatantly let his Vulcan veneer be stripped away in a moment of heated passion – of emotions? How could he let himself fall so far? Kirk… Jim… Always Jim…"


_**Logic**_

Of course he was happy.

At least, that was Jim was trying to convince himself of.

The air buzzing with excitement, the crew chirped on with giddiness intertwined with a stain of melancholy in their voices at their return home. Of course they were the most pleased to be returning to Earth, yet to many their voyage back was bittersweet. While they were ecstatic that they were to be reunited with those they left behind on their home planet, they had come to terms that those around them were their 'family' and soon many would never see one another again.

The same had been for the Captain, though Earth wasn't exactly what he would call his personal 'home' anymore.

Home is where his crew was; space was his great expanse of yard to explore. Earth had become as much a home to him as Iowa was – certainly it was nice to visit, but to be grounded for too long made him jumpy. And while he was the youngest captain in Starfleet, Nogura was pushing him to take a promotion to Admiral, something that he despised most of all; a grounded paper-pusher. He grit his teeth, his fist tightening on his armrest as his opposite rubbed mechanically at his throbbing temples.

"Is something the matter, Captain?"

Spock's baritone question pulled him from his ravine, and Kirk's eyes flashed to the Vulcan, who had been glancing at him inquisitively from his post. Uhura gave a nonchalant glance from the corner of her eye, but Sulu and Chekov kept busily on, preparing for Space Dock. Jim cleared his throat, chuckling quietly to himself before smiling slyly to Spock.

"It just dawned on me that most of us won't be together again. It's a bit… unnerving." He would contemplate, leaning back in his chair comfortably, grasping everything with his senses and etching them into his mind. Spock raised an inquisitive brow.

"Unnerving, Captain? That is illogical, for there is nothing to be unnerved about." He would inquire, noticing now that though Chekov feigned work, his ear had caught every bit of the conversation. 'Fascinating…'

"Many of us may not see one another, nor serve on the same ship again. People are moving up in the world, Mr. Spock! Why, I've heard that you are being sought out for a promotion; something that I have put forth my greatest recommendations for. You'd make a fine Captain." He retorted with a wide grin. Jim had expected something- a "Thank you Captain" or an "I see" or something!

No.

There was only silence. The glint of curiosity drained from his eyes and his dark orbs dulled, Spock's gaze dropping as he turned back to his control panel. None in the bridge had been oblivious to the exchange, and for a moment there was nothing but a symphony of mechanical blips and whirring. Perturbed, Kirk's grin sank as his brow furrowed.

"What is it M-"

"Starbase to Enterprise. Come in Enterprise."

The voice rang over the bridge, and Kirk reluctantly ripped his gaze away from his first officer, though he was far from letting the subject drop.

X~X~X

It had been their third day at Space Dock, and having completed their five year mission, most of the crew had already fled for shore leave or were receiving their orders to be recruited for other vessels. The parties and teary departures had been thrown the first two days, and now the Enterprise lay abandoned of her regular patrons and left in the hands of her renovators. But for now, for the vessel was not of immediate need and therefore was not the first of many to be revamped, she was empty.

Well… mostly empty that is.

Jim walked through the muted halls at a sluggish pace, his fingers tracing over the walls as if to catch every detail in his memory. 'Stop being a sentimental fool. It's not the end of the world; it's not like anyone's dying.' He thought to himself as he waltzed past Spock's quarters, pausing for a moment. Deliberating with himself for a split second, he entered the room and looked about.

His heart sank a bit as he viewed the empty chamber. "Funny…" He murmured to himself, stepping into the room. "You live in a place for five years, then suddenly in fifteen minutes it's as if you were never there…" His gaze flickered from the empty shelves, once lined with whatever knick knacks had sparked the Vulcan's interest, to the desk and chair that lay empty. Crossing to the seat, he sat there in the darkness for countless moments, thinking.

'At least the Enterprise will be in good hands.' He thought dimly, his hands entwining over his midsection, his fingers interlocking with themselves. 'Scotty knows her like the back of his hand. Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov know how to maintain the bridge. They better not let her fall into the hands of some rookie captain… Then again, perhaps that excitement is what this ol' girl needs.' His brow furrowed.

'And what of me? Hell if I'll turn into one of those damned paper pushers.' He thought with a grimace. 'Nogura hasn't given me a new assignment yet. Perhaps he's just trying to wait me out, force me into taking the promotion. I won't lose her like this. Not the Enterprise; not my crew… No, perhaps it was for the best… Yeah, the best for everyone but yourself… Don't be selfish, Jim. A promotion is a good thing, remember?' He fought with himself, sighing once a battle could not be won and leant back in the chair.

This ship… The Enterprise had become as much a home to him as his crew had. She had kept them safe and secure in times of peril, had housed the bonding of friendships and love in her halls, and had gone with them where no man had gone before. Leaving her now… it was a travesty in many ways to her memory. It felt wrong, and it angered him to think that he was losing her. 'Dammit Jim, she's a-'

"I was told I may find you here, Captain. Though, I must say, I didn't expect to find you here."

He jumped, so lost in thought he had not heard the sound of the doors opening. He let out a sigh of relief once he saw Spock's familiar frame looming in the doorway, his body shadowed by the darkened room. Quickly he rose to his feet, about to order the lights to be raised, when the Vulcan put up a hand to halt. Jim's mouth closed, and Spock's hand moved to join with his other, clasped behind his back.

"That won't be necessary Captain. I will be but a moment."

Jim smirked, nodding. "Of course Mister Spock. Now what is it you came looking for me for?" A few steps away from the Vulcan, he would stop, trying to make out Spock's features in the dark. He couldn't, but he did notice his friend's stance become rigid. His eyes narrowed, but when he went to speak the man in front of him cut him short.

"There are several things I need to… discuss with you. I had not had the chance to do so before now." He said stiffly, and Kirk watched as Spock's head turned downcast. Kirk let an awkward smile play across his lips.

It was true; being invited to each of the deck's parting parties and logging in papers had kept one another from saying a farewell properly and unofficially. Deep in his heart he knew his split from Spock would be the most difficult, given his… affections for the Vulcan who could not even return such an expressed emotion. Though they had their polar opposite emotional spectrums, they had grown far closer over their many adventures of the past five years. He knew that the Vulcan would die for him and vice versa, even without regulations, yet…

It hurt to be far from the Vulcan he would consider far closer than a brother, and the thought of being light years away from him… It was driving him mad.

"Well, it's not like we're never going to see one another again Spock. So lighten up." Patting the Vulcan's forearm playfully, he could feel the tight pull of his muscles, and his words gained no response. Curiosity overcame him, and he blurted out, "Spock, what's the ma-"

"Why have you not responded to Starfleet about your promotion, Captain?" Spock questioned lowly, cutting him off once more. Taken slightly aback, Kirk paused.

"How did you know about that?" He hissed, not to his counterpart, but at the situation entirely. How many blasted people knew?

"It's public record, Sir. I simply inquired about your future in Starfleet." There was something there, in the way Spock's voice remained deathly calm. It unnerved Kirk, but he knew he would get nowhere with Spock if he asked him how he was feeling.

"Damn… I've asked Nogura about assigning me to another ship, any ship, but he won't respond. If I wanted a damn promotion, then I would have filed for one! They're pushing me up!" Kirk seethed, and he watched as the shadowy head cocked in confusion.

"Why do you protest so much against promotion, Captain?"

"Why do you? I've recommended you for a promotion to Captain and they say that the work is there for you to take, yet you have neither accepted nor denied the position. Why?" Kirk pressed, drawing nearer to the Vulcan, who said nothing. Arching a brow, he would grow closer.

"Haven't you yet deduced, Captain, that perhaps you are not the only one who does not wish for a promotion." Spock would say finally, the cold venire of his voice chilling Kirk to the spot.

"But why Spock? Why?" Moving away from him, Kirk would pace the small expanse of the room.

"Jim…"

"I mean at least you'll be out and about! I'll be forced to do papers and inspections! Me!"

"Jim, as Doctor McCoy explained before his decommissioning, your temperament and ambition for action would suit you ill in the rank of Admiral. I am forced to concur." Spock replied evenly; Jim only chuckled.

"I'll be sure to take that as a compliment." Jim teased, slowing his pace. That put him more at ease; the Chief Medical Officer's opinion mattered greatly in events of promotions as such a rank of admiral. He just hoped Bones hadn't been so hard as to make those higher in command question his ability in…

No. He knew Bones better than that. It must've been something else stalling Nogura's decision…

"Jim."

Kirk jumped at the close proximity of the voice, and when he halted his pacing and turned, Spock was but a breath away. He was suddenly thankful for the darkness of the room to hide the indecent blush that colored his cheeks. Clearing his throat, Jim would smile.

"Yes, Spock?"

There was nothing but the sound of their even breaths for several beats before the Vulcan began to form the words, "Farewell, Captain…" Once again Kirk was taken aback, and didn't fully comprehend what the alien had uttered until he turned his back on him and began towards the open entry. A foreign panic washed over Jim like a tidal wave.

What kind of good-bye was that? What was troubling his companion for the final weeks of their mission? Had he done something to earn the Vulcan's cold shoulder? Wouldn't Spock say something? Did he truly mean so little that that meager farewell would suffice? Hadn't the past five years meant anything to him, even as fractionally as much as it had him? He hadn't even mentioned Bones since his decommissioning ceremony! Didn't something within him ache knowing that their tight bond was being cut like it had never existed at all?

"SPOCK!"

And, without thinking through his movements, his hand shot out to grasp the others hand, which now resided beside his hip, and clutched it like a life line; he hadn't even expected the outcome of his actions.

Emotions fluttered about him and encompassed Jim's entire being, the light from the open doorway falling into darkness, leaving only him and Spock. Visions of himself – sometimes unconscious, sometimes smiling or watching him from the corner of his eye, but mostly of them locking gazes, and neither losing one another's visual contact for many moments – flittered before him and his heart began to hammer wildly in his chest as feelings of safety, content, and of something he could not quite place a finger on wrapped around him tenderly.

Then all of that was suddenly shattered as images of himself lying dead flashed before his eyes, and he held back the screams of agony as though a serrated blade were plunged square in his chest. The edges of the phantasms blurred in red hot fury, though with every beat of his heart, the sorrow grew far larger than he wished to bear. He gasped as those emotions were purged from him –as if their inflictor knew the discomfort it caused him – and the white hot feelings of companionship and loyalty coursed through his veins. No, it was more than that; a profound mental bond between the two that barely any outside the Vulcan race could identify.

'T'hy'la…' whispered around him, but he couldn't understand the Vulcan term, nor did he have the time to ponder over its significance as another emotion flooded him.

'No… it can't be…'

And then he was suddenly ripped away from his ravine as he found himself in a pile on the floor, having slunk there as Spock's hand tore from his grasp, the Vulcan found a few paces away, one hand holding the back of his chair for support as his frame hunched over, his free left hand – the one that Kirk had held – tremoring at his side. Jim rose after a few moments, both of their breaths ragged from the contact. For many a moment neither spoke, and Kirk could feel Spock's shame radiating from him freely.

"Spock…"

There was no answer, not that he was expecting one. But dammit, he needed to hear his voice! Anything! Moving in the shaded darkness, Kirk waltzed just a few paces behind his closest friend. Placing a tender hand upon his shoulder, Jim would whisper, "Mister Spock…"

The shadow straightened, and Jim saw his hands fumble uncharacteristically to pull down on his uniform. He heard the Vulcan clear his throat, and still dared not to turn and face him.

"Forgive me for that, Captain. I had not-"

With a final impatient, sharp tug of his grasp, he made the Vulcan turn face to face with him, interrupting his statement, and after a moment of hesitation, Jim's expert lips crashed against Spock's foreign ones, taking greedily all they had to offer.

His hand rummaged blindly at the wall, pressing down at the button that would shut the doors that still drew in light. A sound of satisfaction rumbled in his chest as they were suddenly thrust into private darkness, and Jim's unrelenting kisses fought against Spock's eager lips, fighting for dominance. Resuming their earlier work, his hand moved up to cup the Vulcan's right cheek while his free hand skimmed the alien's ribcage, causing the Vulcan to stiffen. Pulling back, his voice raspy and hushed, Spock murmured, "Jim, perhaps we should st-" But before he could finish his statement, Kirk's lips were on his again, cutting off his fleeing will of halting the actions.

"Sit down, Spock…"

X~X~X

Fevered fingers brushed over flushed skin, exploring, pleasuring, wanting - needy.

Labored breaths and hitched voices entangled with incomprehensible words that neither needed to explain.

Bodies entwined, minds melded, logical thought discarded.

All that mattered was the other, their bodies enraptured in a syncopated manner, accepting the other fully, rejecting all fears and worries.

Words spoken in the dark; ones never dared to be uttered before or again.

Explosions of passions that marred anything in existence but their t'hy'la.

Again…

And again…

Once, twice, more? They cared not to remember…

Until neither one could move another moment, their bodies spent, their affections splayed before the other clearly.

Breathing slowed to its natural hum, and heart beats declined from their accelerated rate.

Neither cared for anything but the thought of being in the other's embrace.

One slept, while the other pondered, dreadful logic creeping in…

Then silence…

X~X~X

It had been an eighty seven minutes since Jim had fallen into a calming sleep beside him, his slight snoring the only constant sound. It was in the interval of seven seconds, and when he hitched, Spock's dark eyes would flit over him in the darkness, observing his silhouette until Jim's natural rhythm returned. Once this cycle had been completed, his eyes would peer into the night around him once more.

One hundred and four minutes.

Immediately, something knotted in his abdomen that even with his skills of meditation would not rid.

This man was his Captain, his superior officer, and the thought of making him anything more was illogical. Yet he wanted…

Wanted…

Want… So human…

Jim would be safer on Earth… But this was not what he wanted…

Why had he brought up that subject? Why didn't he just leave after the meld? Left with what little composure he had? Left before things had escalated… Before affections were announced…

Regret… A human emotion…

Human…

How had he slipped so? How could he so blatantly let his Vulcan veneer be stripped away in a moment of heated passion – of emotions? How could he let himself fall so far?

Kirk… Jim… Always Jim…

Fascinating…

One hundred and fifty-five minutes.

Should Jim be light years away and in danger, what then? Would he risk his life, defy Starfleet, defy logic to save his soul mate – his t'hy'la? He had done so several times in the past. But what if he weren't in command – could he find excuse enough to save him? Or worse; if he was in command, Captain of his own Starship, what would he sacrifice to save the one he lo-…

He closed his eyes, his inhale of breath filling the small expanse of time between Jim's small wheezes.

Jim…

What would he sacrifice for him? Himself? Most definitely. The safety of his crew? Those who were entrusted to his command? The true question, he deduced, was not what would he sacrifice, but more of what wouldn't he sacrifice for him.

That horribly barefaced epiphany spoke the truth – the logic - far too well.

X~X~X

Kirk knew that when he awoke, he would be alone.

He had felt it in the night; somewhere in his vast unconsciousness, the voice warned him, yet as he opened his eyes, he had hoped for different. Now, lying in the tangled sheets, his clothes folded neatly – perfectly – on the chair at the opposite end of the room, he was forced to see truth, embrace **logic**.

Suddenly, he found how quickly he loathed that word.

_**~Fin~**_

* * *

First semi-smut kinda thing. Criticism welcome. No flames please!  
~ILJA~


End file.
